


Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Drink

by ZenyZootSuit



Category: Devil May Cry, DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dante has the worst luck, Dante is a badass, Depiction of Injuries, Discussion of rape/non-con, Lady regrets everything, Multi, Patty is oblivious, The author tried to be canon compliant, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, off-screen non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenyZootSuit/pseuds/ZenyZootSuit
Summary: For the first time in his life, he'd been honest about planning to go to the bar, have one drink, leave and be home by 10. Now it was 1am and he couldn't tell you what had transpired during those three hours.





	Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Drink

**Author's Note:**

> TW for off screen/heavily implied rape, depiction of resulting injuries, discussion of rape. 
> 
> This takes place somewhere in the anime universe.

Dante stumbled along the street, hand (and shoulder) pressed against the brick of buildings, relying completely on muscle memory to get him home. What time was it? The street was completely deserted. Late then? Or early? He couldn't remember leaving the bar. He felt sore, sick, and horribly dizzy. The road in front of him looked fuzzier than it ought to. 

What the hell? He'd only had a few drinks...right? He only remembered two beers, both of which had been more water than alcohol. It normally took quite a bit to get him trashed; we’re talking large quantities of liquor. So what the hell? He felt completely and utterly plastered.

He stopped to lean again the brick of the alleyway and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to clear his head. The strange fuzzy feeling was receding slowly, making him more and more aware of how much he _hur_ t. It was entirely possible he'd fallen down a flight of stairs if he were this drunk. 

_If that were the case, why aren't you healed yet?_

That was the Devil May Cry sign alright but why were there three of them and why were they overlapping?...and spinning... He shut his eyes before his blurry vision could make him sick. His mouth tasted like copper...his lip was bleeding?

He made it to the door, stumbling through it, _damn it_ why wouldn't his feet work? 

"DANTE!" The little girl's shriek went straight through one temple and out the other. "Dante there you are! It's 1 in the morning! You promised you wouldn't come home this late, how dare you stay out drinking all night-" 

He cut her off. "Easy, kid, why so loud?" Or at least, that's what he tried to say. His words were horrendously slurred.

Patty looked pissed. "What happened to your face?! Did you get into a bar fight?!"

What did happen to his face? He reached up a fumbling hand and barely managed not to poke himself in the eye. Shit, an eye he could barely see out of, it was so swollen. The flesh covering his cheekbone and jaw was sore as well. What the hell happened?

"Dante, don't you ignore me!"

"Patty..." he started, opening his eyes to see his charge's (read: more or less adopted daughter at this point if he was honest) little blonde pigtails, four of them?, swaying back and forth. The fuck was this? Strange injuries, blurry vision, stumbling, slurred speech. He was certain he hadn't had enough to be drunk. Some sort of drug...?

It hit him like a ton of bricks.

When he would go to bars or nightclubs, he'd watch for this sort of thing. For women or men who would stumble and slur their words, vacant looks in their eyes, often led by scumbags who in Dante's mind deserved the barrel of his gun as much as any demon. He would never kill a full blooded human, but if there were ever any he would consider...

His head throbbed and body ached. 

A drug put in a drink in a bar…meant… 

Oh God…

He needed a fucking drink. 

He walked (you're being generous there) past his charge without answering her, somehow managing to make it across the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him harder than he meant to. Hands on the edge of the sink supporting his weight, he surveyed his reflection. His face, bruises marring the flesh below his left eye and on his jaw, his nose had been bleeding at some point, more bruises extending in splotches down the side of his neck, lip split...

He turned his back and stripped off his coat and shirt. He would deny in court that his hands were shaking. 

More bruises he didn't remember acquiring, scattered over his collarbone and pecs.

He stood for a long moment staring at nothing, a hand on his belt.

_Shit!_ _You bastard stop being a fucking baby about it..._

He pulled at his belt, dropping his pants to the floor. The sight of bloodied scratches and bruises on his hips and thighs made him turn back to the sink and  heave up everything in his stomach.

********

He sat in the tub, arms looped around his knees, shivering despite the scalding hot water he'd filled it with. His hips and pelvis ached. 

_Stop being a child. This is nothing. It doesn’t even hurt that bad._

He still hadn't started healing yet. That would have been concerning if his head weren’t so clogged.

His vision was clearer now, he was no longer seeing double. He held up a hand in front of him, a hand that would hold steady faced with demons twenty times his size. It shook now. 

That hand curled into a fist, pressed firmly to his mouth as his chest clenched. 

_Stop being stupid, Dante, devils never cry, especially not over such petty injuries._

His brain buzzed with questions. How did he not notice the drugs? How had it even gotten to him? Who the fuck would try this and how the FUCK did they succeed? And why couldn't he _remember_ anything-

"Fuck fuck FUCK" The last one came out louder than he meant. He hoped Patty hadn't heard...shit Patty saw him walk in a straight fucking mess as he was...He took a shaky breath.

_Pull yourself together, jackass. Clean yourself up, pull your weak ass together, get dressed, and go explain to your kid why you're so fucking late....and then have a nice stiff drink and go to bed._

He was gonna be sick again. 

If he muffled a few bitten off sobs in his hands, well then no one needed to know. 

*******

Dante seldom gave Patty reason to be concerned. He was big and strong and smart (despite his lacking vocabulary), and was a very good fighter. He could get himself out of anything and rarely came back from a job with more than a few scratches. 

He hadn't been out on a job last night. Just a beer or two after a long week, he’d be back before 10, he’d promised her. 

And to come back beaten to a pulp, stumbling and slurring? Despite how much he drank on a regular basis (he tried to hide it from her, but she wasn't fooled. Anybody knew you can't cover the smell of alcohol with breath mints Dante!), she had only seen him “drunk” once, and that was at a party at their house, with Morrison, Lady, Trish, everybody, and even then he'd only told even worse jokes than he normally did and made mildly stupider decisions than usual. He hadn't slurred and he hadn't stumbled then. 

And now he'd been in the bathroom for a long time and she hadn't heard the shower...

She was beginning to get a little concerned. 

It was after 2 by the time her guardian came strolling out of the bathroom, no longer stumbling, dressed in the same clothes he's returned in. At the sight of him, her concern fled and she fumed. 

“You never answered my question! Did you get into a bar fight or something??”

"Or something."

He walked over to his desk, pulling a whiskey bottle out of the top drawer.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Got a little sidetracked. Lost track of time.“ He was no longer slurring at least. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. "I'm going to bed, princess. So should you."

"Dante!" The demon hunter ignored her and trekked up the stairs. "You come home pig drunk and then drink MORE?!! Don't walk away from me!"

The only answer she received was the sound of Dante's bedroom door shutting.

*******

Patty made sure she was up at the crack of dawn, rehearsing the verbal thrashing she was planning on giving him. It was after 9 by the time the bedroom door creaked open and heavy footsteps proceeded down the stairs. 

"DANTE!"

"Morning, Patty." She stomped up to him, fists clenched at her sides and glared up at his face…He'd never retained an injury overnight. The same purpled flesh marred the left side of his face and spotted his neck above the collar...of the same shirt he'd been wearing the past three days.

"Haven't you ever heard of clean clothes?! What even happened last night?" 

"Oh, the usual," he said easily, voice betraying nothing. "A few demons here and there. Never a night off for me, eh?" 

"So you drank so much a demon could land a hit on you?" 

Her guardian paused.

"First time for everything, right?" He made his way over to his desk, sitting down heavily and rummaging in the bottom drawer. "Guess I let my guard down." 

A silence hung over the room as Dante continue to search through his drawers and Patty stood steaming in the middle of the room.

"Well, it’s after 9. You look atrocious, you should eat something and drink something other than alcohol, or you'll be hungover all day!"

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry, kid.” He finally sat back in his chair, apparently having found what he was looking for, that thing apparently being another mostly full bottle of some sort of liquor. He spun the cap off and took a very long drink. 

Not hungry? She had never heard Dante put those two words next to each other in a sentence.

She wondered how the fight must have gone for the demon to land such a grievous blow to his face and such a tiny one to the side of his neck.  

*******

Half a bottle of whiskey curdled in his stomach as he leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, magazine over his face. Exhaustion deeper than physical tugged at his limbs. He'd slept off the rest of the effects of the drug and would have been content to sleep much longer, but his dreams had begun to be peppered with blurry fragments of touch sensations and insurmountable panic that felt like a memory, which had effectively woken him up. 

He sat up and downed a few more long swallows of liquor before getting up and moving to the couch, throwing an arm over his face. 

_The hands on his arms (chest? back?) were unfamiliar. The room was dark, which was strange. His half blood allowed him better night vision, but he couldn't see anything...shit why wouldn't his arms move? He tried to speak but his tongue was frozen, the words caught in his throat with his breath. He could feel the cold concrete against his bare body...what? Damn, why was it so hard to think…_

He jumped when the front door opened. (He fucking jumped, Dante the Devil Hunter fucking jumped, nothing ever caught him off guard…except a drugged beer apparently)

"Morning, Dante."

"Morning to you too, Morrison.”

"Morrison!" Patty's voice came from the kitchen and she came flying out, launching herself at the agent. He caught her with moderate ease.

"Good to see you too, Patty." He patted her back and set her down. "Maybe if you ask nicely, Dante'll buy you a new dress with the money he'll make from this job I've come to give him."

His back hurt.

"Not today, Morrison. I'm taking the day off."

"You can't afford to take the day off or have you forgotten the debt collectors crawling half way up your ass?"

His pelvis throbbed. He couldn't find it within himself to give a shit about debt collectors. 

“You look like hell, what happened to your face?" 

_Shit, his face._

"Hey, language pal. Not in front of the kid."

"I'm not a kid!" Patty shrieked. "And that's rich coming from you!" 

That made him smile, just a little on his uninjured side. 

"Got into a little fight. Let my guard down." 

"You never let your guard down."

"Like I told the _little lady_ , first time for everything."

_Yeah, like who ever heard of an unbeatable devil hunter getting ra…_

"What he means is he spent way too much time in the tavern and got so drunk he could barely fight off a demon!"

...Ouch. Had she said that to him yesterday morning he would have groused and laughed it off. Today it stung.

_She’s right though._

He snatched the liquor bottle off the floor where he’d dropped it and took a long drink, ignoring the little voice in his head that reminded him he was supposed to be trying to set a better example for his pseudo-daughter.

"Dante, it's 10 in the morning.” his agent growled, frustrated.

"So it is. S'pose it's 6pm someplace." He needed a nap. 

"You lazy..." The rest of his agent's words fell on deaf ears as he stared up at the ceiling. 

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder. 

_Unfamiliar hands, touching him…It hurt, and it hurt a lot._

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Awareness coming back to him, he found that he'd leapt to his feet and away from his agent, who was standing in a defensive position, hands held out in front of him.

"Easy, Dante, I'm sorry," he said slowly. 

Fuck, Dante's hand was resting on his gun, wasn't it? Shit...

"Dante?" Patty was staring at him with frightened blue eyes, hands clasped in front of her. _Get it together Dante it's just a hand._ He relaxed himself as much as he could on command, removing his hand from his gun and up to rub at his eyes.

"Sorry, buddy, you spooked me..." He bent to pick up the liquor bottle.

Morrison looked unconvinced.

"Got home real late, didn't sleep much, you know? Like the kid said...I got trashed."

Morrison frowned. “Patty, go grab some ice from the kitchen for this one’s face, would you?”

The little girl huffed and she scurried off, effectively taking the bait. Morrison looked back at the devil hunter.

“Dante, are you ok?” 

“Just dandy.” He took another drink. “Good idea about the ice though, this hurts like a bitch.” He gestured to his bruised face and laid back down on the couch, carelessly dropping the liquor bottle beside him and tossing an arm back over his eyes.

“You're not healing. Lady shot you point blank in the face and you laughed it off. You're telling me you got those last night?" 

“Speaking of Lady and about that job you brought for me, I bet Lady’d be glad to take it. She was just complaining to me how bored she was. Tell her it’s a gift from me. Maybe if I’m lucky, she’ll cancel some of my debt.”

Morrison eyed the battered hunter as Patty came scurrying back in with a bag of ice and a glass of water. 

“Here put this on your eye.” He flinched when the little girl grabbed his wrist to pull his arm away, but let her adjust the ice over his face and replace his hand to hold it there. “And stop drinking! More alcohol won’t cure your hangover!” She scooped the liquor bottle off the floor, but before she could run off with it, Dante gracefully plucked it from her arms and set it back down.

“Nope, this stays with me today.” Patty huffed. “But if it makes you feel better…” He reached over and took the glass of water from her, draining it in one long swallow before setting it down on the floor and taking another swig of liquor.

“You’re impossible!” scolded the little girl before stomping back to the kitchen with the empty water glass. 

“You aren’t lucky, Dante,” Morrison muttered. Dante shifted the bag of ice over his eye.

“No I am not.” 

Morrison shook his head. “I’ll offer Lady the job, and if she doesn’t want it I’ll come back tomorrow.” 

“Sure, whatever.” 

“…Are you sure you’re all right, Dante?”

“I’m peachy, Morrison. Just had a long night.”

“And a rough one, looks like.” The devil hunter let the bait hang in the air, blatantly pretending to have fallen asleep. Morrison made an annoyed sound. 

"Well if you sleep off your hangover today and want an easy job that might cover the cost of your next phone bill, some of the townsfolk reported some demonic activity at the Bullseye Bar last night.“

If that wasn't the bar he'd gone to...

“A few low levels sounds like.”

He was so fucking tired.

Eventually the agent left and the room was quiet once more. Peaceful. Dante shifted into a more comfortable position, pelvis smarting as he did so. 

“Shit…” His throat felt tight.

_Devils never cry, Dante._

*******

Dante slept on the couch for most of the day. Patty'd had to go wake him up (he seemed like he’d woken up from a nightmare for the barest second) and take the bag of ice off his face (You’re going to freeze your skin off if you just leave it there! He’d scoffed at her.) though it was mostly water by the time she did. The swelling had gone down, leaving his face looking as it normally did, save for the mottled bruises still marring his features, but those had begun to yellow. 

He remained completely uninterested in food even after he emerged from his vegetative state on the couch (soaked in sweat, see Dante if you’d save your money you could buy better fans!), only agreeing to drink the offered glass of water before disappearing up the stairs to go to bed. It was barely dark out. 

It wasn’t long after her guardian went to bed that the front door opened. Patty looked up from her soap opera to see a rather salty Lady. 

“Evening Patty. Is Dante around?” she questioned, shutting the door behind her and looking around the office. 

“He went to bed an hour or so ago,” the little girl answered. Lady laughed.

“This early? Must be a record for him.”

“Well, he got into a fight with a demon last night. He drank so much he got hurt and didn't heal all day! It'll be useless to wake him up, he was a zombie all day. Maybe you should come back tomorrow."

Lady scoffed.

“Get back to your show, I got this."

The woman leapt up the stairs and made her into Dante’s room. Patty clicked off the TV. As much as she loved her show, she couldn't possibly miss this. A loud thump signaled that Lady had successfully awoken her guardian. Soon she could hear sounds of talking, both nearly to the point of shouting. 

“Look, just tell me what you want, get out, and let me sleep.” Dante came trotting angrily down the stairs, _still_ dressed in the same clothes. A few buttons of his shirt had come undone, leaving the bruises on his neck and one on his collarbone visible. 

“I _want_ my money back.” That was Lady, close on Dante’s heels, annoyed.

“I don’t have your money, but you already knew that. Try again.”

“Alright, I want to know why you’re still drowning in debt and refused not one, but two jobs today.”

Dante scoffed. “Cuz I’m a little beat up from a row with some shitheads last night and didn’t want to get killed cuz I’m a little slow.”

“You’re full of shit. You try again.”

“What? I don’t have a life insurance policy. If I kicked the bucket on a job you wouldn’t get jack shit.”

Lady looked pissed. 

“From what Morrison told me and the smell of you confirms, you’ve been drinking all day. Wanna know what I think?” 

Dante rolled is eyes and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. “I get the feeling I’m gonna hear it whether I want to or not.”

Lady glared. “I think you got drunk at the bar, slept with some random whore, came home at ass o'clock in the morning without a thought to the well being of your kid, and spent the rest of the day drinking and sleeping like a proper deadbeat!”

Dante glared right back at her. “Interesting.” 

Lady laughed. “Interesting? So those aren’t hickeys all over you?”

Patty watched as Dante leaned more heavily against the desk, hands coming up to re-button his shirt. Some of the color must have drained from his face, because the now completely yellowed bruises on his face seemed starker then they had a few minutes before. Lady frowned at the uncharacteristic gesture. 

“…Something happened.” 

“Shit happens.”

“What happened?”

Dante shrugged. “Nothing.”

Lady stared at him, waiting. When he didn’t respond, she pressed again. “Something happened.”

"Shit happens."

"I can do this just as long as you can. You might as well just tell me!"

Dante surveyed his friend. "I thought Morrison already told you everything you wanted to know. What difference does it make if you hear it from me?"

Lady rolled her eyes. "Here's a question. If you got the shit beat out last night why haven't you healed yet?"

"I don't fucking know."

Patty watched the two hunters bicker for a long while, Lady getting more and more frustrated as Dante evaded her questions. 

"UGH you're the most frustrating...!" She reached out to shove at his shoulder. Dante moved quicker than Patty's eyes could follow, evading Lady’s touch.

" _Don't_ touch me, Lady," he said, voice devoid of emotion. Lady stood, shocked.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Dante shrugged. "Who knows. Now if there's nothing else, I'm going back to bed." 

And with he that moved away from her, taking the stairs two at a time and slamming the door behind him. 

Neither Patty nor Lady moved for a solid minute.

Dante seldom gave Patty reason to be concerned. She was beginning to wonder if she should be now. 

*******

Patty picked at her pancakes, eyeing her guardian from across the table. He’d taken the girl out to breakfast at Restaurant Fredi, after she’d searched the fridge and found it completely bare. 

(“DANTE!” she’d yelled as soon as she’d heard his footsteps.

“What is it now?” came the devil hunter’s annoyed response.

“There is NO FOOD! Zip, zilch. Not even a moldy piece of pizza! How do you expect a growing girl to-”

“Alright alright, jeez… we’ll go out for breakfast and I’ll give you money to buy groceries. Is that acceptable?”)

Her guardian was still acting very strange. Though the bruises on his face and neck had completely vanished, he was now sported dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept at all. At least he’d put on clean clothes, she supposed. The strangest thing was that he remained completely uninterested in food. 

(“The usual for you, Dante?” Cindy had asked after Patty had ordered.

“No thank you. I’m not hungry today.” Cindy looked shocked.

“…is it because you can’t pay? The boss doesn’t mind if you open up a tab…”

“You’ll get your money. I just don’t want anything to eat today.”)

The bell jingled as the door to the restaurant was opened. 

“Good morning Dante.”

“Morrison.”

The agent looked from Patty and her fresh pancakes to Dante and the bare table in front of him. He frowned. “…You eating today?”

The devil hunter leaned back, arm thrown over the back of the booth. “Not hungry.”

Morrison spluttered. “Not hun-!”

“Would you mind keeping an eye on the kid here today? I got a job to do and should any of the little shits get out before I can catch them, I want her safe.”

That was a weird request, Patty thought. She had never heard Dante verbally doubt his skill to handle however many demons came his way. Morrison appeared to think the same.

“And what makes you think you won’t be able to handle this job?”

“Oh I’ll be able to handle them, easy. But these are slippery bastards. A little bird tells me that these low levels from Bullseye bar have been drugging and assaulting patrons.”

Patty huffed. “I can protect myself! Especially against some stupid slimy low levels!” 

Dante’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure you can, princess, but you’re still going with Morrison today.”

“Hey, I never agreed to take her.”

“How could you possibly resist that face?”

Patty scowled. Morrison sighed. 

“…Fine, but Dante-“

“Thanks Morrison.” And he’d managed to skirt around the agent and out the door before the other could argue further. 

Patty stared at the door. “He’s been so strange since he came home drunk.”

Morrison frowned after the demon hunter. 

“…I’m beginning to wonder if it was alcohol that had him…Tell me what he was like when he came back, Patty.”

The little girl’s fork clattered to the table as she threw her hands up in the air angrily. 

“He was completely trashed!”

“What makes you say that?”

“He was slurring, stumbling, not making any sense at all! Beat up, all rumpled, just a mess! But worse than usual.”

Morrison’s frown lines got impossibly deeper. “Slurring and stumbling?”

“I could barely understand him! And I have no idea _how_ he made it home in that state…”

The agent rubbed at his facial hair, muttering mostly to himself, “I’ve seen him two bottles deep in liquor and he’s not been like that…don’t exaggerate this now, kid, this could be serious.”

Patty saw red. “I’m not exaggerating! I have never seen him that bad before!”

The agent said nothing more while the girl finished her pancakes. 

*******

He was not afraid. The demons inside the bar across the street had only drugged him because they knew perfectly well they weren’t even close to being strong enough to win against him. He would have no trouble wiping the floor with them, bare handed.

The sight of his favorite bar made him uneasy. He stared at the shitty neon sign, wracking his memory. He knew well enough what had been done to him, but _he couldn’t fucking remember…_

He was across the street and in the door before he could think any more on it. He recognized the bartender, but didn’t try to recall his name. The man looked up.

“You’re in early today, even for you.”

“I’m not here to drink. Heard you got a demon problem.”

The man nodded. “Yeah. S’what she’s here for.” He nodded to the corner booth, where a familiar brown haired, heterochromic eyed woman lounged.

“Funny I’d see you here, Lady.”

“Same to you Dante. Funny also how you’d skip the job Morrison wanted to give you and go for this one. I doubt this one’ll pay your next phone bill. The other one would’ve taken a nice chunk out of your debt to me.”

Dante was not in the mood for this. “Cut the shit and tell me what you found out.”

Lady shrugged and began. “Barman over there said soldiers, heavy drinkers, powerful people have been coming in, had one or two drinks, light stuff, and getting dead drunk, only to agree to take someone home. Said the people being taken home are weird folks. Tall, spindly, quiet, come in and immediately leave. Classic slave class demon disguise and behavior.”

“Come to think of it…” Both hunters turned to look at the bartender. “Didn’t you go home with one a few nights ago?”

Lady looked scandalized. “ _ME?”_  

“No, him.” 

Lady’s eyes shot to Dante, whose face remained expressionless. 

“Doubt it. You wouldn’t happen to know where these little shits are hiding, would you?”

The bartender shook his head. “No, you’re the only customer with white hair under 60, it was definitely you.”

Lady stared at her partner. Dante ignored her.

“But see, I think you do know. Because I was in here a few nights ago. Heavy drinkers getting hammered off one drink is ridiculous, which means the drinks were drugged. If the demons themselves had drugged the alcohol, I would’ve smelled ‘em. Which means a demon didn’t drug the alcohol.”

The bartender was sweating. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Just tell me where they are, and your bar will be left in good enough shape to open tonight.”

Lady had never been scared of Dante, but then again, she’d never seen him look this murderous. The barman trembled under his glare. 

“W-warehouse d-d-down the street! I’m sorry, I-“ But Dante was already out the door. Lady sat still for a moment, processing what had just happened. 

“Hey you,” she finally said. The barman jumped. “What happened to those men? The victims.”

“Th-they turned up dead. Raped and dead. I swear I couldn’t do anything! They made me drug the drinks, I tried to not to sell the drugged shit, I swear! They threatened my wife!”

“…And you’re sure it was Dante who left with one of them?”

The bartender nodded. “Of course I’m sure. He comes in here a lot, and he doesn’t exactly look like a regular guy, so I’m sure I’m not mistaking him for someone else. It was weird…he had two beers and was under the table…he’s the one customer I’ve never had to cut off before, guy’s got a metabolism like nothing I’ve ever seen, I thought for sure…” 

Fury mounted in Lady’s chest. “The beer you gave him, was it drugged?”

The man quaked. “Hey, c’mon…”

She was up out of her seat and over to the bar in an instant, hand fisted in the man’s shirt, dragging him half over the bar. “Did you drug him? _What did you give him?!”_

“Ketamine! I gave him Ketamine! First drink shoulda knocked him cold, but he just sat there like nothing hit him! Next drink I poured in as much as would dissolve and even then it barely got him, _who is he…_ ”

Lady snarled. “Someone who may very well come back here and kill you. And if he doesn’t, I will!”

The man looked ready to pass out from terror. 

“And if I don’t, you’re going to jail for the rest of your life for accessory to murder.”

She dropped him and turned on her heel. 

“And he was the only one they didn’t find…like the others..” she heard as she sped out the door. Walking down the street to the warehouse, she pushed what she’d just learned to the back of her mind to be processed later. 

The door to the warehouse was open. 

Lady was shocked by precious little these days, but the scene she walked in on got her a little. 

Blood was everywhere. The stench of decaying demon filled the air. There had been _tons_ of them, by the looks of it, and yet it seemed as though Dante had finished the job and left already… 

Closer inspection of the corpses proved there to be only about 7 demons. They were just in pieces. Ragged little pieces. Like they’d been torn apart with bare hands. Like this had been personal.

Lady shuddered to think of the implications of that.

*******

Lady carefully opened the door to Devil May Cry. The shower was running, but there was no other activity. Patty must be out then, she thought. 

The bathroom door opened, and out walked a soggy Dante, shirtless and in clean looking pants, toweling off his hair. 

“Lady,” he said without looking up. “You missed all the action. Guess that means I get the whole fee.”

“You killed those demons with your bare hands.”

“So?” He sat down at the desk, tossing his towel on the floor. “Worked, didn’t it? Didn’t feel like cleaning Rebellion today.”

Lady was quiet for a minute. “…you left with one of them.”

Dante snorted and kicked his feet up on the desk, pulling a bottle whiskey from the bottom drawer. “He was mistaken. I woulda smelled a demon. It was somebody else.” He took a drink.

Lady half smiled, if only for a lack of anything else to do. God, she wished there was an easier way to go about this.

“How many people like you are there in this town?”

“Two apparently.”

Lady took a deep breath. “He said he gave you enough Ketamine to knock out a horse.” 

He took another long drink. “That’s a shit ton. Probably woulda killed the bastard right off the bat.”

“They didn’t find ‘him’ at all.”

Another drink. “Guess I’ll have to go back and look at the warehouse for a body. Or at the other dump sites. Wonder where they would’ve stashed him-“

“Dante!” 

Devil May Cry was silent.

“…what, Lady?”

Lady may have wanted to cry. “It was you! It was you they-“

“So what if it was?” Dante was staring at her. He looked sick and exhausted, the kind of tired that is in no way physical, like he had the last time she’d come to see him. 

“So…” So what? Why did you come here, Lady? To confront your friend that he’d been assaulted by demons he could literally teat apart with his bare hands, demons who had wanted nothing more than to take him down a notch. He was probably humiliated, hurt by _fuck all the things she’d said to him… “_ So…nothing.” The devil hunter cocked an eyebrow. “So…I’m a fucking bitch for taunting you about those bruises, _I’m sorry_ , Dante, I didn’t know! If I’d known I would’ve never said what I did…”

“But you didn’t know, because I didn’t want you to.” He was reading the label on his liquor bottle. “So don’t sweat it. Everyone knows how much we both enjoy scratching at each other.”

Lay laughed humorlessly. “I’d say I did a little more than scratch at you…”

“Well, if you feel that bad, you could always forgive my debt.” Lady started at him. He was taking several long gulps of liquor. “Too much to ask, huh? Damn…it was worth a shot.” 

“You’re actually joking about this?” 

Dante stood up to rifle through his top drawers. “About what? The money I owe you?”

“No! About the fact that you were-“

“What do you want me to do about it?” He was staring at her again. Lady had no idea what to say. “The demons are dead. That’s it.” Lady’s mouth was probably flapping like a fish out of water. Dante sighed. “You can give me a hug if that’ll make you feel better.”

Lady stepped forward and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him as tightly as she could. “Damn it…I’m supposed to be making _you_ feel better, not the other way around!”

Dante laughed a little and patted her back. “Should I get some glass vials or some shit? Lady tears…probably hold magic powers.”

“Shut up.” She let go of him. “…are you ok, Dante?” 

“Peachy.”

“DANTE!” Both devil hunters started as the front door banged open to reveal Dante’s fiery preteen. The girl locked eyes on Dante and bolted forward, nearly leaping into his arms. “DANTE STOP ACTING STRANGE! IT’S WEIRD!”

Dante smiled and kissed the side of her head, before putting her down “Did you and Morrison have a nice day?” 

The little girl huffed. “It was fine. Morrison’s getting the groceries out of the car now. He’s a good mechanic, but knows nothing about shopping for food!”

When she left to scold the harried looking agent about one thing or another, the white haired man sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Better me than her. Or you,” he said to Lady tonelessly, and walked out to help bring the groceries in, complaining normally as he did.

*******

It must have affected him. For a long time Lady would notice signs of lack of sleep on the half devil, and he upped his drinking quite a bit (though Patty hounded him endlessly). But his muttered comment had been the last he’d ever say about what had happened.

Morrison had figured it out.

(He’d called her one day. “He was roofied, wasn’t he?”

“That’s hardly my question to answer.” That had been enough of a conformation for the agent.)

Both had tried to get him to talk about it, but he seamlessly evaded their prodding every time.

He seemed fine. After a while he was the same as he’d always been: insufferable, lazy, with a fondness for beer (though he no longer drank what was on tap at bars, she’d noticed) and shitty pizza. He quit drinking so heavily, at least with other people around. He seemed to have…gotten over it? He must be fine. 

_But how is anyone fine after that?_ she wondered to herself.

*******

Dante hadn’t been fine since he saw his mom get killed at 15, he mused at 2 in the morning into a glass of whiskey. (Contrary to popular belief, he hadn’t kicked his heavy drinking habit. He just restrained himself until he was alone and uninterrupted.) What was one more thing heaped on the pile of all the things that made him _not fine_? Hell, it didn’t matter if he knew he wasn’t fine, so long as everyone else thought he was. 

He poured himself another drink. 

 

**_El Fin_ **

**Author's Note:**

> My friend @AmberKnight and I were debating about whether or not drugs would actually do anything to Dante, and we finally decided that if he can get drunk, he can get drugged, though he would need a ton to feel it.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Come chat with me in the comments or on tumblr, comments and kudos are always appreciated!!! <3


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